


the ones who were taught Petrov's defense

by twoif



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts: A History, Not Pottermore Compliant, Parseltongue as a clumsy metaphor, Post-Canon, once upon a time I thought really hard about inter-House disunity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoif/pseuds/twoif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are just like they used to be.</p><blockquote>
  <p>When the Sorting Hat talked about the four pillars that held up Hogwarts, it was being more than metaphorical. The Hogwarts Four first lay down the foundation of Hogwarts by each erecting a pillar in the four corners of a rectangle by hand, fashioned from the stone of each particular founder's home. Of course magic and house-elves were used to complete the rest. </p>
  <p>The day after Salazar Slytherin left, the column that he erected crumbled mysteriously into four pieces, and it was Rowena, always exasperated with Godric's and Salazar's rivalry, who waved her hand in an irritated manner as she re-erected the pillar with an, "<i>Honestly</i>, Godric."</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	the ones who were taught Petrov's defense

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [July 2009](http://two-if-by-sea.livejournal.com/221736.html).

When the Sorting Hat talked about the four pillars that held up Hogwarts, it was being more than metaphorical. The Hogwarts Four first lay down the foundation of Hogwarts by each erecting a pillar in the four corners of a rectangle by hand, fashioned from the stone of each particular founder's home. Of course magic and house-elves were used to complete the rest. 

The day after Salazar Slytherin left, the column that he erected crumbled mysteriously into four pieces, and it was Rowena, always exasperated with Godric's and Salazar's rivalry, who waved her hand in an irritated manner as she re-erected the pillar with an, " _Honestly_ , Godric."

 _Hogwarts: A History_ never mentions this particular incident. Indeed, it only makes vague allusions to the fact that Hogwarts was ever _built_ —less astute readers might come away from the book with the impression that the castle simply sprang effortlessly out of the ground with the touch of Gryffindor's wand. Thus even Hermione, who after being accepted into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement headed straight to the Ministry's library of hand-written and never-published appendixes with her newfound access, should be excused for not knowing that the first four pillars make up the four corners of the Great Hall. That the remnants of Slytherin's is the one in between his house's long table and the High Table.

That before plumbing was introduced to Hogwarts, there was a distinctly S-shaped mark scratched into the wall by that corner, and if one were to squint, it could almost, almost resemble a small, coiled snake.

 

 

In 1998, only a handful of Slytherin students come back: one second year, one third year, and a few fifth years determined to get their O.W.L.s, come hell, high water, or school-wide distaste and discrimination. Astoria and Graham, being the oldest students in the house, automatically become prefects. They're the only two from Slytherin. There aren't enough Slytherins for more.

Throughout the year, Hermione chivvies all the Gryffindor prefects to make extra efforts towards school unity, but it's hard when there aren't even enough Slytherins to form a Quidditch Team and for the first time in modern Hogwarts History, the Quidditch Cup isn't converted into house points.

None of this is very surprising. The Wizengamot trials of the Death Eaters were covered with an unhealthy relish by the Daily Prophet: full court transcripts included as inserts, photo essays of their lives in Azkaban, endless opinion pieces from noted members of the magical community weighing in on the severity of individual sentences. Simply put, there aren't that many Slytherin pureblood families left in England who could even send their children back to school. The Parkinsons had moved to Italy with the Zabinis before all the causalities of the Battle of Hogwarts were even buried. The Baddocks send Malcolm to Durmstrang. 

As for the rest, almost overnight, there's a revival of the home tutor market for pureblood families.

The Slytherin students who do come back to Hogwarts are the recipients of months worth of Howlers before McGonagall, tired of taking vitriol with her morning eggs and tea, bans their delivery on Hogwarts' grounds. 

For a week following, the few Slytherins, for once, are the heroes of the student body, and Graham, gathering the two Slytherin first years around him on their way to Potions, whispers to them that they should appreciate this temporary reprieve from being dunked in the toilets or hexed in the hallway during passing periods.

 

 

Draco Malfoy is the only seventh year Slytherin who gets his NEWTs in 1999. He does it by owl, since his entire family is under house arrest. The Ministry actually sends a representative to the Manor to hand him his results. "I see you've taken all the ones required to enter training for the Department of Magical Enforcement, Mr. Malfoy," the Ministry official says with a sniff. "You couldn't possibly have ministerial ambitions...?"

Which is when Draco snatches the letter, the color high on his pale cheeks, and all but shoves the official out of the manor grounds. He doesn't have far to push, since the wizard hadn't deigned to come in past the iron-wrought front gates. In the year since the Battle of Hogwarts, the only people who have actually come to visit the Malfoys are property appraisers and the exotic animal merchants who came to take the white peacocks away.

 

 

There is an unspoken custom that Headmasters of Hogwarts are chosen from different houses in turns, to encourage "a spectrum of views" and discourage "unwanted favoritism". After Dumbledore's death, it should be a Slytherin's turn. 

Which is why in 1998, the Hogwarts Board of Governors appoints Minerva McGonagall as Headmistress.

McGonagall not only runs the Sorting, but also gives the customary speech during the feast. "It is a testament to the strength of Hogwarts and the wizarding community as a whole that we are even gathered here today," she says, her eyes severe over her spectacles. "And in the coming years, it will be the special duty of the witches and wizards of Hogwarts to help us move past tragedy and betrayal and to achieve a lasting, peaceful future. This is not accomplished by merely reaching out, but also by accepting. It is not accomplished by speaking, but also by listening. And it will never be accomplished by judging, only by forgiving."

That night, as per Ravenclaw custom, Stewart Ackerley and Orla Quirke sit together in the common room and talk it over and agree that, as a speech encouraging house unity went, it was all very odd. Why, Stewart points out, would you remind everyone about 'betrayal' if the point is to 'achieve a lasting, peaceful future' through 'forgiving?'

'No use hashing it out now," Orla says, yawning. "We'll just have to see what happens. And anyway, I'm not too worried. Professor--sorry, the Headmistress was always terribly _fair_ about not playing favorites."

But, Stewart muses later, rolling over in his bed and half asleep, the truth is Voldemort was McGonagall's war, Dumbledore was McGonagall's teacher, and Gryffindor was McGonagall's house.

And while he and Orla might have the privilege of indifference, in the end, it is just that—a privilege.

 

 

In 1998, the new Gryffindor class is larger than Ravenclaw's and Slytherin's put together. 

A full five years pass before there are enough Slytherins to fill up all the bed spaces in the dungeon, and seven before Slytherin has a Quidditch team. It is another three years after that before they actually win a game, and that against a Hufflepuff team who had lost half their star players to a nasty bout of kappa flu. Adrian Pucey donates a full set of the newest Firebolt model, the Pyroblitz, to the team the next day, only for the Slytherins to be roundly crushed by Ravenclaw two weeks later, 370 to 20.

"Well, don't beat yourself up about it," he tells the captain, a tall, gangly sixth year, patting the boy comfortably on the shoulder. "There's always next year. Why, when I was on the team my third year--" 

He stops, frowning, and doesn't say anything else. Instead he shields his eyes and looks straight up at the goalposts, decked out in blue, silver, red, and gold for the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match. He remembers vaguely how easily those ribbons and drapings can change colors. Sometimes, they only needed to clap their hands.

 

 

The Sorting Hat was bewitched to be fair and given brains to be neutral, and sure, everyone will say, it's the _students_ who decide what house they're put in, but these days, no one remembers that the Sorting Hat belonged to Godric Gryffindor first, and no one remembers that Godric Gryffindor left behind a sword just like Salazar Slytherin left behind a chamber, and no one remembers that spells--even those of neutrality—are bound by the ability of the one who casts them.

No one remembers that before Voldemort, even before Grindelwald, there had already been blood purity and blood lineage laws. In fact, one of the first inter-Ministry debates in the 1700s was over the suggestion of a blood lineage registry, much like the Muggle-born Registration Commission under Umbridge. It was a measure proposed by Griffith Twigil, the English representative to the Convention on the State of International Wizarding and Muggle Relations of 1689 and one of the primary sponsors of the International Statute of Secrecy.

No one remembers that Twigil himself had been Muggle-born, or that his father, like Tom Riddle, had walked out on his mother after finding out she was a witch.

They do remember that Twigil became the second Ministry of Magic, though. His Chocolate Frog card calls him "one of the most stalwart protectors of the wizarding community." 

And that's fine. It's not quite a lie, and it's not quite the truth, and ignorance is never a defense, but in the end, it's just how it goes. 

 

 

And years later, parents will still tell stories of Lord Voldemort, the boogeyman to end all boogeymen, to their children. _There is always evil,_ they say, _but there will always be good to counter it. You need to be that good and fight that evil._

But the children of former Death Eaters tell the grandchildren of former Death Eaters this:

_There will always be heroes and there will always be villains. There isn't always room for a hero, but there is always, always room for a villain. You just hope you can find room to survive._

They say it softy, tenderly, and they say it like they really believe it. They'd say it in Parseltongue, if they only knew how it went.

**Author's Note:**

> When I first posted this fic, I ended up telling someone in the comments that I theorize Salazar leaving the school as an "original sin" all the subsequent Slytherins have to bear, resulting in them leaving before the final battle, and a friend of mine said that placed in the larger context, Slytherins have been under "a much broader form of house arrest" for generations, which is a concept that is much more interesting than anything that actually appears in this fic. So, here we are.


End file.
